Blind Date
by ThatRavenclawBitch
Summary: Lacey is set up on a blind date with her friend Anna's boss. She is shocked when Mr. Gold turns up, a man who knows her as Belle, a girl he loved and lost ten years ago. From the prompt "Golden Lace blind date".
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story came from a series of prompts on tumblr. Just getting around to posting it here for the first time.

* * *

She wasn't sure why she'd agreed to it in the first place. Lacey French did not do blind dates. In fact, Lacey French didn't do dates at all. If she wanted a little fun for an evening she knew how to find it. The prelude to it, sitting through dinner or a movie she didn't want to watch, just seemed ridiculous. It was all just a ritual, a way for people to have sex without feeling guilty about it. Lacey had never felt guilty about sex, so she certainly didn't need a disappointing evening out to preface it.

But here she was, sitting at a nice restaurant in Boston at 8:00 on a Friday night and waiting for a mysterious man named Jacob. Anna hadn't told her much about him other than that he was older and apparently loaded. Maybe that's why she'd agreed. Lacey could certainly use cash and she wasn't entirely averse to the idea of a sugar daddy, if she could find one. She just hoped he wasn't so old she couldn't pretend to be attracted to him.

She surreptitiously checked her watch, wondering if she was about to be stood up. Lacey certainly couldn't afford this place on her own and it had been his choice. If she was left sitting at a table all night, not able to order so much as a cocktail, she'd have some words for Anna Arendelle. A moment later though, someone was approaching her table.

Lacey shook out her curls, letting them cascade over her bare shoulders and glanced up from under her lashes in what she hoped was a sultry way. The effect was completely ruined when she caught sight of her dinner companion.

"Mr. Gold!" she exclaimed.

The man in question nearly stumbled over his feet.

"Belle?"

She hadn't expected to see someone from her hometown, someone she hadn't seen in almost a decade. And she certainly hadn't expected to see the very man she'd lost her virginity to in the back of a cadillac at the age of eighteen, the night before she left for college and never came back.

"Shit," she said frankly.

* * *

Gold just stood there, staring down at the girl, no, woman, that he hadn't seen in almost ten years. A woman who had barreled into his life one summer and then left just as quickly not bothering to ever return. She'd left his heart in pieces though he'd never admit to it.

The last time he'd seen her she'd been writhing underneath him, her blue eyes filled with some tender emotion he'd thought might have been love. Of course, he'd been wrong. He was always wrong about such things.

Now she looked horrified, her blue eyes wide and her cheeks flushing pink. The years had been kind to her, that was for certain. She was even more beautiful at twenty-eight than she had been at eighteen, her figure filled out and even more lush and perfect. Of course, that also could have been the barely there tube dress she was wearing, leaving little to the imagination.

Belle coughed and he realized his eyes had slid down from her face. He quickly brought them up to meet hers again.

"Um, I'll just go," she said, starting to get up from her seat.

And he couldn't let that happen, not after finding her for the first time in years. Not that he'd looked for her. He knew where she was and he knew she wasn't coming back to Storybrooke. It was one of the reasons he'd moved away. Too many memories.

But he couldn't let her leave now.

"No," he cried, springing into action. "Please, sit down."

When Belle still didn't seem convinced, he put on his most imperious Mr. Gold face that he hoped she remembered from their short time together.

"I insist."

Belle looked at him warily before scooting back in to her seat. She picked up her cloth napkin, fiddling with the edges nervously.

"It's been a long time," he said, finally finding his way into the seat across from her. The table was small, intimate, a flicker of candlelight and a single rose set in a silver vase making the whole thing rather more romantic than he thought this encounter warranted. This was uncomfortable enough without the low lighting and gentle violin music wafting through the air. What had he been thinking picking this ridiculous restaurant?

"Anna didn't give me a last name," she blurted out. "I didn't know it was you, I swear."

"I believe you," he said flatly. He could well believe his scatterbrained personal assistant hadn't bothered with last names when she set this whole thing up. The girl was well meaning but entirely too intrusive. He should have fired her months ago, but something always stayed his hand. She had reminded him of someone he knew long ago, a girl who was so different than the woman sitting before him now. When Anna told him she'd met the perfect woman for him, he'd begrudgingly gone along with the ordeal.

But he certainly hadn't expected Belle.

"I was told I was meeting a woman named Lacey," he prompted, wondering why she'd given a fake name.

"That's my name now," she said with a shrug.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Why?" he asked. There was nothing wrong with the name Lacey, but Belle had suited her so well. Well, it had suited the girl he used to know. He didn't know this Lacey at all.

Belle just sighed. "Long, long story."

They fell into an uncomfortable silence until the waiter approached their table bearing a wine list. He'd barely had a moment to glance over it before Belle grabbed it out of his hands, slamming it back on to the table.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

He motioned at the wine list as though it should be obvious. "Ordering wine."

Belle rolled her eyes. "This isn't a thing, okay?" she said. "We're not doing this. We're not going to sit here and pretend this is just a normal set of circumstances and order wine and appetizers and talk about what you do for a bloody living. This isn't a real date."

Gold clasped his hands together, leaning back in his seat.

"Would you rather we had this conversation sober?" he said finally.

"I'd rather we didn't have this conversation at all," she retorted.

It had been ten years. Belle clearly hated him for some reason or another or she wouldn't have left as abruptly as she had. But her words still managed to hurt.

"Yes, well, you can't always get what you want, can you dearie?"

Belle seemed to mull that over before grabbing the waiter as he passed the table again.

"Whiskey, neat," she ordered.

Gold arched a brow at her choice. The girl he'd known could barely choke down an appletini.

"Same," he told the waiter.

* * *

"I need to pee," Lacey announced with no thought to tact after the waiter had left with their drink order.

Gold leveled her with a look, one she remembered all too well. It said he didn't believe her for a second.

"Are you going to try to escape through the bathroom window?" he asked in a mocking voice.

Lacey gritted her teeth. "No," she said calmly. "I want that whiskey. I'll be back."

Gold just smirked at her, looking haughty and put together and perfect in his sharp suit and silk tie. He was just as handsome as she remembered. And just as much of a bastard.

She stood up as calmly as she could, grabbing her clutch from the table and walked to the bathroom at the other end of the restaurant. She could feel Gold's eyes on her, and picked up the pace. Once the bathroom door was shut behind her, she pulled out her phone and punched in Anna's number.

"What the hell have you done!" she barked into her cell phone as soon as the other end picked up.

"Lacey?" came Anna's voice from the other end of the line. "What's wrong? Aren't you out on that date I set up?"

Lacey had to restrain herself from throwing her phone to the ground and stomping on it. Anna was a sweet girl but she was completely clueless.

"Yes, I am," Lacey said in what she hoped was a patient voice. "But when you said you wanted to set me up with your boss, you neglected to mention he was Jacob Gold."

There was a beat of silence on the line before Anna spoke again. "Is that a problem?"

Lacey let out a frustrated squeal. "Yes it's a problem!" she exclaimed. "Anna, I know him, okay?"

"How do you know him?"

"He used to live in my hometown," she explained. "I worked for him briefly."

"Oh," Anna said in an understanding tone. "So is it awkward being on a date with your old boss? I'm sorry, I never would have set you guys up if I knew that. I just thought you'd be perfect for each other."

"Well, we're not," she clarified. "Definitely not. I think you need to hang up your matchmaker hat for good after this one."

There was a pause again and she almost thought Anna had hung up. "Or you could go back out there and see if maybe I'm right," she said finally.

"Anna!"

"No, Lacey, hear me out," her friend interrupted. "I know he seems kind of austere and everything, but there's a nice guy under all that I swear. And if his being your old boss is intimidating or weird or something, just give it a chance. He's not your boss anymore."

Lacey let her head fall back against the bathroom wall.

"It's not that he was my boss, okay?" she admitted. "We had a thing. It didn't end well."

Another pause. "So what you're saying is you guys are perfect for each other. Oh my God I'm getting so much better at this! I'm setting up people who already have history."

"No, Anna, that's not what I'm saying at all."

"What do you think about a June wedding…"

Lacey hung up on Anna before she could continue that thought.

She put her phone back in her clutch, going to stare at herself in the mirror above the sink. She fluffed her hair out, making sure her curls were in tact. She freshened up her lipstick. Then she pulled her dress down slightly, exposing a bit more cleavage.

If Gold was going to make her sit through this date, she was going to make it a nightmare for him.

* * *

He'd long fantasized about this encounter, of seeing Belle again after so many years. In his dreams he demanded to know why she'd left, why she'd found him so repulsive that she had to leave the moment their feelings for each other were consummated. She would fall in to his arms, telling him she'd made a terrible mistake and she'd always meant to come back to him.

Reality was startlingly different. He never thought he'd be sitting across from Belle under an assumed name, downing whiskey and wearing a dress so low cut he thought he might see her navel if she moved the wrong, or possibly right, way.

Of course, he didn't need Belle to answer his questions. He knew why she'd left. No woman could ever love him, ever choose to stay with him. He had been sad at first, when he woke up in his bed alone, sure that opening himself up to her had done nothing but drive her away. When she hadn't turned up for work that day, he'd been unsurprised. Even his brave little Belle didn't have the stomach to see him again. But when he found out she'd skipped town in the middle of the night, he'd been angry. His memory of their encounter was as one of the best nights of his life, but it was apparently so terrible for her that she couldn't even stay in the same town as him. She might have mentioned it after the first time. He wouldn't have subjected her to rounds two and three.

And now, with Belle sitting directly in front of him, so changed from the girl he'd once known, he felt resentment. He didn't think of her often these days. Not like he had after she'd first left, when every little thing reminded him of her and he drove himself mad going over every little thing he could have possibly done to make her hate him. No, once he'd had enough of Storybrooke, packed up and moved away, things had been easier. Now there were only certain things, triggers that would bring Belle to mind. And he'd studiously avoided those things for years. Until today.

The waiter approached, setting down another whiskey in front of Belle. Gold looked down at his own barely touched glass.

"Have you had a chance to look over the menu?" the well-meaning server asked.

"No," Belle answered, not bothering to look at him.

"Would you be interested in any recommendations?" he forged on bravely, completely oblivious to the storm he'd just walked into. "The chef has several specials…"

Belle leveled him with a smile so sharp that it could hardly qualify as a smile at all. "Just keep the whiskey coming, alright?"

The server nodded, rushing away toward the kitchen as Gold continued to watch Belle closely.

"What happened to you, Belle?" he asked. He wasn't even sure where the question came from, but it seemed to be the one burning in his mind most clearly. She had been sweet and good and everything light. But the woman sitting in front of him seemed Belle's polar opposite.

"Lacey," she corrected him, leaning forward on her elbows in a way that pushed her breasts together and drew his eyes down to her cleavage. When his eyes snapped back up to her face she was smirking. She knew exactly what she was doing. "And nothing happened to me. It's been ten years, Gold. Did you really expect I'd still be the same little bookworm I was in high school?"

He took a sip of his drink to buy himself a moment. He did think she'd be the same. His Belle. The one who had flirted with him and loved him and broken him. His memories of her were tainted by anger and sadness and bitter regret, but he was always the villain in them. She was goodness and she had fled his darkness. He couldn't blame her for that.

But this woman, Lacey, had her own darkness. The light that had been Belle was seemingly snuffed out anyway. So why did she leave him if it wasn't to preserve herself?

"So what have you been up to, Gold?" Lacey asked, reaching out a hand to trail it across Gold's fist, clenched against the pristine white tablecloth. "You're looking well."

It was a lie. He looked old and he knew it. He dressed well, still had a head full of hair, but there were lines around his eyes that hadn't been there the last time she saw him. There was a significant amount of silver shooting through his dark hair. His limp was more pronounced than it had been ten years ago. She was lying to him, flirting, but for what purpose?

"Spare me the bullshit, Belle," he said through clenched teeth.

"Lacey," she bit back, her façade cracking just a bit with her annoyance at his continued use of her real name. "And it's not bullshit. You were always a handsome man."

His mouth settled in to a grim line, his eyes darting away from her.

"You never thought I was handsome," he accused lightly.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said with a casual shrug of her shoulder. "I don't fuck men I don't think are handsome."

Gold sputtered, coughing on the whiskey he had just sipped. That sharp smile was back on Belle's face looking vaguely triumphant like she'd just won a point in whatever sparring match this dinner date had turned in to.

"So we're going to talk about that then, are we Belle?"

"Lacey!" she snapped, her voice rising so loudly that several other diners glanced their way. She looked down at her hands, looking suddenly angry with herself. "Can you respect me enough to call me by the name I prefer?"

He watched her closely, and for a moment he almost spotted the girl she'd once been beneath the tough exterior. But a moment later the flash of vulnerability was well covered once again.

"Fine," he agreed. "Lacey."

* * *

"Lacey," Gold said, with a sharp nod of his head. She tried to ignore how wrong the name sounded on his lips. For the first time in years it felt like a false name, but she shook it off.

"Thank you," she said, feeling like she could breathe now that Belle was out of the way. She couldn't stomach sitting here across from him, knowing he still thought of her as that helpless girl she'd once been. She couldn't be Belle anymore. She didn't want to be.

She couldn't help feeling like she'd lost any of the advantage she'd had in this conversation. He'd made her crack like he always could, expose more than she wanted to. Her goal was to catch him off guard, to keep him so unsettled that he cut this thing short, disappeared back in to the night and she never had to see him again. That wouldn't work if she exposed weakness to him. She needed the upper hand again.

"So, Gold," she continued. "In answer to your question, yes, we are going to talk about this now. There's no use pretending what happened didn't happen."

She took a measured sip of her whiskey, letting a little of the amber liquid dribble from her glass and down to her cleavage. She ran her index finger down between her breasts, catching the droplets and bringing the finger back to her mouth to give it a hearty suck. Across from her, Gold let out an audible gulp.

One more point to Lacey.

"No, I don't suppose there is," Gold agreed once he'd found his voice.

"I was a virgin, you know," she dropped casually and she didn't think she imagined the way he winced. "Sweet little Belle French, completely inexperienced in the ways of men."

"Yes the blood on the backseat of the Cadillac told me as much, though you didn't," he shot back.

Lacey swallowed but didn't look away, frozen in place by the angry look in his eyes. And what did he have to be angry about? That she hadn't told him she was a virgin? As if that would have made things turn out differently somehow?

"Well I apologize," she said nonchalantly. "If I'd known I'd have paid to have your upholstery cleaned. I know how much your things mean to you."

"Of course you didn't know," he tossed out. "How could you? You were miles away by the time I woke up and I never saw you again. You couldn't wait to get as far away from me as possible."

Lacey snorted. "Is that what this is about? I wounded your pride or something? You couldn't believe a woman could want to fuck you and not be interested in anything else? Sorry you didn't rock my world."

For a second, she thought she might have actually wounded him. A look of hurt passed over his eyes that was gone with a blink the next moment. But she couldn't have done. It was his pride that was hurt, not his heart. She had to believe that.

"Oh, no, Lacey," he spit her name out like a curse and for the first time she wished she wasn't Lacey, wasn't this hard and cruel person she'd somehow become. "Of everything you've done, your leaving is the one thing that actually makes sense."

She blinked, his words completely unexpected. One point to Gold, she assumed. He had managed to surprise her.

"You expected me to leave," she said, her words a statement more than a question.

"I expected you to regret what happened between us," he clarified, looking down at the empty glass in front of him. "Leaving town directly after and never coming back felt like overkill."

"You left town," she pointed out. She wasn't sure when, but Anna had been working for him for months. It couldn't have been that recent a change. "You wouldn't have been there had I gone back."

"There was nothing for me there," he said, his eyes meeting hers again. For the first time, it struck her that he'd aged. His eyes looked so world weary in a way they hadn't been ten years ago.

"Then we left for the same reasons," she said, looking away across the restaurant. She couldn't bear to see his eyes look so sad. She couldn't bear to think that she had been the one to make them that way. She couldn't care. Mr. Gold was untouchable and she'd been just a kid. She couldn't have honestly hurt him, not the way he could hurt her.

"I suppose we did," he said in a tired voice. And Lacey was tired too. She wanted this conversation to be over. She wanted him to get up and walk away. She wouldn't concede defeat. She couldn't be the one to break.

"And who would think that fate would bring us back together all these years later," she said, her voice dripping with false optimism. "Perhaps it's our second chance to do things right."

She reached her hand out again, laying it over Gold's on the tablecloth. Underneath the table her foot skimmed up the inside of his trouser leg. Gold flinched back from her touch, his chair practically tipping over backward in his haste to be away from her. Good. Maybe now he would leave. The man had always startled like a frightened rabbit at the slightest hint of human affection. It had taken all summer before the tension finally broke between them. She was sure she hadn't made things better by cutting and running the next day.

"Performance anxiety?" she said with mock concern.

"Oh don't pull that on me," he fairly growled back. "I know you Belle. I know what your cunt tastes like."

"So do a lot of men," she shot back. He had to know he wasn't special or unique. He may have been her first but he certainly wasn't her last. Maybe not even her best, but she was kidding herself if she made that argument.

Gold just nodded, the movement jerky and angry.

"Fine," he said. "Did any of them love you as well? What do you do with the hearts you collect? Is mine in pride of place for being the first?"

Lacey blanched. He'd never said anything about love. All those years ago when they'd gone at it like rabbits in the backseat of his car he hadn't said a word. Nor later when he'd taken her back to his house and laid her across his four-poster bed, laving her body with his tongue until she couldn't remember her own name. Nor after that when they'd lain in his bed together and she'd known she absolutely had to leave, even before circumstance conspired to truly drive that message home. Not once had he said the word love.

And would it have made a lick of difference? She honestly couldn't say.

Another point for Gold and one she couldn't answer with one of her own.

She stood up abruptly, her hip bumping against the table and sending the vase with its single rose toppling over so water stained the tablecloth.

"I can't do this," she muttered, picking up her clutch. "Drinks are on you, right?"

She didn't wait for him to answer before she hightailed it out of the restaurant.


	2. Chapter 2

It was cold outside. The sun had set while she and Gold had taken their stroll down memory lane and now she was alone and underdressed on the opposite side of town from her apartment.

Lacey popped open her clutch, looking through the meager contents of her wallet. Just a few crumpled bills and some change. She knew there was next to nothing in her bank account. Not enough for the cab fare she would need to get home.

The idea of going back into the restaurant and asking Gold for a ride was so ridiculous it would have had her laughing if she wasn't so miserable.

She realized then there were tears on her cheeks, the biting cold wind making them feel like ice clinging to her skin. She swiped at them angrily. Gold didn't deserve her tears. Even on the off chance he was telling the truth and he had loved her, it didn't make a bit of difference now. The girl Gold loved was long gone, she was Lacey now and Lacey didn't shed tears over ex boyfriends.

She had nothing else to do, so she set off walking in the direction of her apartment. It would take her all night to get there on foot, but it was better than standing around freezing her ass off outside a ritzy restaurant.

She hadn't made it far before her teeth were chattering and her skin was starting to turn a worrying shade of blue. There was a bar up ahead on the right, the garish glow of the various signs for alcoholic beverages beckoning her like a moth to a flame. It would be warm inside. She had enough bills in her clutch to keep her in her cups for another hour at least. And maybe she could find a friend for the night, someone who lived nearby where she could crash and make her way home in the morning when it was warmer.

She swiped at the tears still leaking from her traitorous eyes and stomped inside, settling herself at the bar and ordering another whiskey. She'd made an admirable go of getting shit faced in the restaurant and she was intent on finishing the job.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd cried. Perhaps it was her mother's funeral. It certainly wasn't the day she'd left Storybrooke. She'd boarded that bus in stony-faced silence, not bothering to glance back at her hometown as it pulled away. But seeing Gold tonight, hearing him say pretty words that she knew she'd have eaten up with a spoon ten years ago had her feeling small and young. Lacey was world weary and cynical but the tender heart of Belle still beat beneath her chest, struggling to escape and consume her.

She buried it in another shot of liquor.

Belle had been weak. A naïve girl who constantly let people take from her until there was barely anything left. If she had remained Belle, she would have disappeared. Lacey had been her mother's maiden name and it was a fitting tribute to take it, to become the woman her mother had never been able to be.

Her mother had loved her father and it killed her in the end. That's all romantic love did, kill and maim and destroy. She had escaped that fate just as she escaped Gold in the early morning light after one night of passion. She'd allowed herself that, allowed herself a taste to know what she'd truly be missing. She thought it would make things hurt worse, but as that bus pulled away all she'd felt was numb.

And now it was as though all the years of buried emotion were finally welling up, wreaking havoc on her system, turning her inside out. She felt young and foolish and hopeful and broken. She felt as though she were seeing herself through Gold's eyes, seeing how she'd changed and for once it wasn't with pride. She wanted to be Belle again, to have him look at her so tenderly, to chase after her or beg her to stay. But he'd never done that, not when she was Belle and certainly not now that she'd buried her.

"Didn't get enough to drink at the restaurant?" came a cool, accented voice from behind her. A voice that had once made shivers run down her spine with its rich burr. Lacey shut her eyes against it, refusing to turn around and face him. But somewhere deep inside, somewhere she kept hidden and secret, Belle crowed that he had come for her.

* * *

He should have expected it. Belle was always good at running. For all her talk of bravery back when she was a girl, when push came to shove she would always run rather than stay and face things.

Gold sat there for a moment, watching water from the upturned vase bloom across the tablecloth until it started to dribble on to the hardwood floor below. He clenched his hands into fists, a motion he'd been making so often tonight that his knuckles were starting to ache with the strain, his short nails biting into the skin of his palms and leaving crescent shaped divots in their wake.

"Fuck it," he said after a short deliberation. He'd let her run away once before and despite the pain, he hadn't regretted it, not truly. She was better off without him, would succeed in ways she never could if she'd been tied to him and to Storybrooke. But Lacey was still a mystery, one he wanted to uncover. If he let her go now, he'd never know why she left, why she'd changed, who she'd become.

He grabbed his cane, jumping to his feet and throwing down enough cash to cover their whiskey before rushing out the restaurant, waving off their well-meaning waiter's inquiries.

Once he was out on the street, the frigid autumn air chasing any effects of the liquor from his mind, he wasn't sure what to do next. Belle wasn't anywhere to be seen and he had no idea what direction she'd headed in. Had she hailed a cab? Did she have a car? Or had she just fled him on foot into the night?

He heaved a sigh, heading right on a whim. The cold air made his ankle ache and he wanted nothing more than to sit down someplace warm. Instead he was out here chasing after a girl who hadn't wanted to see him for the past ten years and certainly didn't want to see him now.

He'd barely made it a block when he spotted her up ahead of him, the neon glow of a bar sign casting her in a greenish pallor. She didn't have a jacket on over her tiny dress and he had the urge to wrap her up and keep her warm, but he shook it off. As he watched she swiped at her cheeks before standing up straighter and heading in to the bar.

He snapped himself out of his stupor, following behind her and into the gloom of the bar. It smelled like cigarettes and stale beer, a far cry from the restaurant they'd been drinking in just a few minutes ago. Belle was seated on a cracked red vinyl stool at the bar, her shoulders hunched and staring down into a glass of something potent looking.

"Didn't get enough to drink at the restaurant?" he asked, approaching from behind. He could see Belle's shoulders tighten, her whole body on edge, but she didn't bother to turn around.

"You know, Gold, when a woman gets up and leaves in the middle of dinner it usually means she doesn't want to talk to you."

"Well, you've run out on me before," he replied, casting a haughty eye at the stool next to her before deigning to take a seat. "I'm not going to let you get away with that twice."

Belle let out a laugh that sounded harsh and manic to his ears. It was so different, so far removed from the musical little laugh he used to work so hard for all those years ago. He'd liked nothing better than earning her smiles and her laughter, the sound enough to warm up even his weary old bones. Now even that little trace of Belle was gone.

"As if you cared," she spat out. "All this bullshit about love? You never loved me. I was just a silly, stupid girl you took advantage of."

"I did love you," he growled back. "Not that it makes any difference now."

"You didn't follow me," she shot back. "Back then. When I left you didn't follow me."

"Of course not!" he exclaimed. He was so tired of this, the back and forth. He wanted answers, to know what happened, why she was Lacey now, why she'd buried his Belle.  
"You were always better off without me. I thought I was doing you a favor by staying as far away from you as possible. But now I see you and you're not the woman you should be."

"Excuse me?" she rounded on him, finally looking at him for the first time since he'd entered the bar. "I'm exactly the woman I want to be."

Gold shook his head, not believing her for a moment. There was fear in her eyes, uncertainty.

"You were going to see the world," he said. "You were so bright. You went off to college on a scholarship and the whole town was behind you. What did we do that made you hate us? Why did you never come back?"

"Because of you!" she exclaimed, finally cracking. "I couldn't see you. Not after what happened."

It felt as though something had punched him straight through the chest, stealing his breath until he was suffocating, his entire being focused on her words.

"Did you," he rasped out, feeling faint and nauseous. "Did you feel that I…forced myself? That you couldn't say no?"

Belle rolled her eyes. "God, no. I wanted you, trust me."

His lungs opened up and he could breathe again, but it didn't make any sense.

"Then, what was the problem?" he demanded. "Was it so fucking terrible? Was I such a goddamned nightmare you couldn't even visit your father over the past decade?"

Belle snorted. "Like you give a flying fuck about my father."

"No," he agreed. "But you did. Once upon a time you loved him and your friends and you left all of that, abandoned everything, because you hated me that much? What did I do to you?"

She sniffed a little, giving a casual shrug of her shoulders that he didn't quite believe.

"Nothing," she said dismissively.

"Belle," he ground out, his teeth clenching around her name. "Lacey, whatever the fuck you want me to call you now, what did I do to you that was so bloody terrible?"

"You were married," she replied calmly, her head swinging in his direction and her eyes cold. "You took in some stupid little teenager and made her think you loved her and you were married the whole time."

"Oh," he said, his voice small.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Cora, your lovely wife. She called me, let me know just what kind of man I was dealing with."

"Belle, it wasn't…" but she didn't let him finish. Her fury was rising now, her cheeks pink and her blue eyes as hard as chips of ice.

"I always knew it wouldn't last," she said with a shake of her head. "If anything your wife did me a favor, steeled my resolve that might have slipped otherwise. I knew you'd hurt me. The moment you fell asleep I knew I'd made a terrible mistake because it was always going to end one way, with me chewed up and spit out and dying miserable in that godforsaken town. I just didn't think I'd be chewed up and spit out quite that quickly."

Gold shook his head, the picture becoming clear now. Cora had spent the bulk of their six year marriage in Europe. He hadn't seen her in years by the time Belle came along. But of course she'd have found out, found some way to destroy any shred of happiness he managed to scrape up in this life. Once he'd managed to track her down and get her to sign the divorce papers once and for all, he'd left Storybrooke and the watchful eye of his erstwhile stepdaughter.

"So you left and never returned," he said flatly. "I suppose I never realized you were quite so selfish. Lacey suits you."

"You were a married man who fucked an eighteen year old girl, and I'm selfish?" she asked disbelievingly.

"Rather than talk to me about it, clarify things, stop to think for one moment why you'd never seen this supposed wife of mine in Storybrooke, you just left. You didn't leave because of Cora. You left because you wanted to."

"Yeah," Belle agreed, her acquiescence so unexpected that his anger burned off in favor of surprise. "Cora made it easier to leave, but I was always going to. If I had let myself love you, I'd never have left Storybrooke. I would have stayed in that town and it would have eaten me up until there was nothing left the way it did my mother."

"And instead you're living it up in the city?" he said mockingly, gesturing at the shit hole bar they found themselves in. "Is this all you hoped for when you left? This is the great adventure you were craving?"

"It's been ten years, Gold," she scoffed. "I haven't been here the whole time."

"What a stunning achievement for you," he bit back.

"I went to college," she said. "Turns out no matter how smart or driven you are it doesn't help if there are no jobs in your field. So I scraped up what I could and I traveled. I worked when I could, stayed put when I couldn't afford to move on. I saw the Great Wall of China and the Eiffel Tower and Chichen Itza. And when I ran out of money I came back here and had myself a drink. I think I've earned that right. I certainly don't have to justify my life choices to you just because I didn't stay behind in Storybrooke to be your whore."

She'd done it then, gone to all the places Belle had dreamed of, had spoken so animatedly about whilst pointing out the photos of all the landmarks she wanted to see in her travel books.

"You did have your adventure," he said almost reverently. And yet she was still dissatisfied.

Belle shrugged. "Turns out adventure is overrated," she said. "No matter where you go in the world, you're still you."

He frowned.

"Did you think you wouldn't be? Is that why you became Lacey?"

Belle downed the contents of her glass, setting it back on the bar and tapping the rim to signal the bartender that she'd like another.

"Belle is weak," she said bitterly, as though she was talking about someone else, someone who had failed her as much as he had. "Belle couldn't handle the realities of the world she found outside of her hometown. But Lacey gets the job done."

She turned to look at him again. "So there's your big sob story. I had to protect myself because no one else ever could."

He shook his head. He couldn't accept that.

"Belle was anything but weak," he said fiercely. "Belle was everything."

Belle looked at him appraisingly, swallowing hard as her eyes flicked over him. He had the uncomfortable feeling he was being taken apart piece by piece; that Lacey was searching him for weaknesses she could exploit in a way she only could have learned from him.

"You still married?" she asked, turning on her stool so she was reclining against the bar.

"No," Gold said, his nose wrinkled up in disgust. "I wouldn't have been then if I'd been able to find Cora to send the divorce papers. It was a technicality."

Belle nodded, seemingly lost in thought. A moment later, she'd propelled herself into his arms, and he wasn't sure if he was kissing Belle French for the first time in a decade, or kissing Lacey for the first time ever. When she captured his bottom lip between her own, tugging on it playfully, he decided it didn't matter.


	3. Chapter 3

She kissed him. She kissed him because she loved him and always had. She kissed him because he was the one person on this planet who valued Belle and some part of her felt protective of that girl. She kissed him because she bloody well wanted to.

And he kissed her back.

She knew he would. Despite how hurt he had been by her, despite how much he wanted to hate her, he still wanted her. Lacey was good at reading people, particularly men, and he'd wanted her since the moment he walked up to her table at that restaurant and taken in her low cut dress.

Her hand braced against his thigh as she leaned further into the kiss and Gold's breath hitched in his chest. His hands caught her upper arms and oh so gently eased her away.

"What are you doing?" he managed to gasp out in a ragged breath.

"Kissing you," she returned with a shrug, feigning nonchalance. It wouldn't do to show that she was just as effected by the kiss as he was. Lacey needed to maintain control in this little encounter if she didn't want to end up with Belle's heart in shreds.

"Why?" he asked, a line forming between his eyebrows. The same line that used to appear any time he was puzzled by her back in the old days. It happened quite frequently.

"Because I wanted to," she said with another shrug. "Do you have a problem with that?"

He just stared at her for a moment before shaking his head. "No, I guess not."

"Good," Lacey sighed, before diving in to kiss him again.

He hadn't been her first kiss, but he'd been her first good kiss. Ten years later and he still knew what he was doing. His lips were warm, the whiskey on his tongue making her heady. She could get drunk on him, never mind the liquor she'd been downing before. This was the truly dangerous drink.

She'd half crawled into his lap, her leg slung across his as she balanced her other foot on her barstool. His hands were grasping at her, pulling and tugging at the fabric of her dress. They probably looked like a couple of randy teenagers at a school dance rather than adults with a sexual history. The bar was sparse but not empty and despite the fact that Lacey had little shame when it came to such things, Belle was different. And tonight she felt so very much like Belle.

"Do you live nearby?" she gasped, breaking away from him again. She didn't want to fuck him in a bathroom or a back alley. She wanted to fuck him in a bed, feel his whole body pressed against her, skin against skin. She wanted to take all night until they were both boneless and sated in the early morning light. She wanted to make this a goodbye worth remembering.

"Close enough," he growled against her ear.

"Then let's get out of here," she said, pulling herself off of him and adjusting her skirt. Gold paid for her drink, then grabbed her by the hand and left the bar.

It was a shock when he opened the door to his penthouse. Lacey wasn't surprised by the luxury of the spacious apartment with gleaming hardwood floors and floor to ceiling windows, but rather the furnishings. His big old house in Storybrooke had been filled to the brim with treasures. Every wall was covered in old paintings, every surface littered with priceless antiques. It had been like an extension of his shop, an extension of him: a cluttered and beautiful mess, like a dragon's hoard.

But the penthouse felt cold and empty. It was clean lines and modern furniture, not a single antique sewing box or baroque mantel clock to be seen. There was a large flat screen television hung on the wall of the den. She didn't think Gold had ever watched television when she'd known him.

It sent the uncomfortable thought that she didn't actually know him at all anymore racing through her mind. And that despite her change in name, he still knew her all too well.

She quieted that thought by kissing him again.

Gold buried his hands in her hair, tilting her face to the side so he could kiss her deeper, rougher. His cane was cast to the side and he was clinging to her for balance, a display of trust she hadn't quite thought him capable of. Still, he was leading her, kissing her, guiding her down a hallway to what had to be his bedroom. She let him, for now. But she couldn't let him take control. She had to be the one in charge of this encounter. She'd let him lead before when she was young and inexperienced, but no longer. He was at her mercy not the other way around.

So she allowed him to maneuver her into his bedroom, let him lay her down across the bed. Let him lift her leg to wrap around his waist so he could grind himself against her. She couldn't quite help the groan that escaped her at the feel of him, hot and hard, through his trousers. He started to pull at the hem of her dress, working it up over her thighs and she'd had quite enough of his lead.

She quickly reversed their positions, flipping over him to pin him to the bed. Gold let out a surprised grunt as she raked her hands across his chest, not bothering to undo the buttons on his expensive navy blue dress shirt, simply seizing the two halves and ripping them apart as buttons sprayed across his burgundy duvet.

"I liked that shirt," he growled as Lacey let out a snort.

"Then buy a new one," she said, rubbing herself against his newly bared chest. "You've clearly got the cash to spare."

"But I liked that one," he countered. Lacey rolled her eyes. Trust Gold to be worried about his things, always the things. She'd been one of those things once, until she wasn't any longer. She couldn't stay in that town and sit on his shelf no matter how much he loved his things. She couldn't belong to anyone, not then and not now either.

But oh that part of her that was still Belle wanted to be his. She was doing this for Belle, after all. It was her dream to have him again, not Lacey's.

"The last time we did this, I didn't know anything," she said, a cruel reminder that they'd been in this position before, of all the hurt that came after. "I've learned a trick or two since then."

"Oh have you?" the murmured reply. There's something in Gold's eyes, something dark and bitter and she's not sure whether it's directed at her or inward.

"Mhmm," she hummed coyly, ignoring the look. There's no time for second guessing now. No time to worry about how badly she'll hurt him at the end of this, if such a thing is still possible. He's bitter and hard and she's broken him before. He'd be a fool to trust her now, and Gold is no fool.

She bent over him, licking down his throat, tasting the saltiness of his warm skin beneath her tongue, feeling the rapid beat of his pulse beneath her lips. She continued downward, licking a stripe down his chest before skirting across to his right nipple and latching on.

Gold's hips bucked beneath her and she switched to lave his other nipple, the hard bud pebbling in her mouth.

"Fuck," he groaned out, squirming beneath her, his fingers digging into her spine as his arms wrapped around her, holding her so tightly.

She kept on her journey downward, biting and kissing across his stomach by turns until there were little red patches across his skin from her teeth.

By the time she reached his belt, Gold was panting and trembling, his cock straining against his trousers. She took pity on him, getting his belt, trousers and boxers off in short order but for a bit of fumbling with his shoes. Then she sat back on her heels to take in her handy work.

There was something erotic about having him spread out before her while she was still dressed. He was vulnerable, naked, she could do anything she wanted to him. She could get up and leave him like this, his cock hard and straining with no relief in sight. But the wetness between her thighs told her she'd never do such a thing. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

The first time she'd seen him like this, she'd thought he was enormous. She knew better now. He was on the right side of average in her experience, but she remembered what he could do with it, how he could make her feel, and she wanted him inside of her so badly it almost hurt.

But she paced herself. She wanted this to last all night after all, a proper send off. So instead she straddled his knees, bending over his cock.

"No," he rasped out, his hand coming to her shoulder, to hold her back. "Please, I couldn't bear it."

She looked up at him, puzzled. He'd had no such compunction before.

"Please, Lacey," he repeated, that vulnerable look in his eyes once again.

She nodded, scooting back up to straddle his thighs. A look of relief immediately crossed his face and she let him run his hands up over her hips, tugging at her dress. She pulled it up over her head casting it aside and felt him gasp at the sight of her in nothing but her underwear. She was wearing her best push up, black lace and ample cleavage with matching panties. She'd planned for a date with a potential sugar daddy after all, though she hadn't pictured her night ending quite this way.

"So gorgeous," he breathed, his hands skimming up across her ribcage to cup her breasts. She caught his hands in hers, urging him to squeeze as she moved her hips against his.

Her head fell back, her long curls tickling against the bare skin of her lower back, Gold's cock teasing between her thighs and his hands kneading at her breasts. She was overwhelmed for a moment, her mind going hazy at one pleasurable sensation after another. It was enough time for Gold to wrestle back control, sitting up and grabbing her about the waist.

The head of his cock nudged against her clit and she gasped, grabbing on to his shoulders for support. He buried his face between her breasts, nipping and licking, repaying her in kind for what she'd done to him. One hand reached around to unclasp her bra and the next thing she knew, his teeth were scraping across her nipple.

"God," she groaned out, gripping him by the hair to keep him from ever thinking about stopping. She was so caught up in the sensations he was providing to her breasts that she didn't even realize he'd managed to pull her panties down until she felt two fingers breaching her folds.

"You're fucking drenched," he said, his voice awed. Lacey couldn't manage to find words to respond. His fingers were stroking her, working their magic. She could feel herself clenching around him. It wasn't enough. She needed more.

"Get in me," she gasped. "Need you to fuck me. Want you to fuck me."

She didn't care that she was babbling, that she'd ceded her much coveted control. She was aching and she needed him, needed to scratch the itch before it consumed her.

Gold pulled his fingers from her, leaving her bereft before he yanked her underwear down the rest of they way and she kicked them off, settling over him once again. He adjusted himself to press against her and with one downward thrust of her hips, he was sheathed inside her for the first time in ten years. Lacey keened, her fingernails digging into Gold's shoulders so hard she'd probably draw blood.

God he felt amazing, even better than she remembered. In the interim she'd thought her inexperience had led her to remember their first encounter as better than it was, that if she ever fucked Gold again it would prove nothing special. But there was no denying the way they fit together so perfectly, the way he filled her so completely that she wanted to remain like this always, tethered together their hearts beating as one.

She slammed her eyes shut, trying to block out the unwanted feeling. She loved him. She'd loved him since she was a girl and she'd never stopped. And it hurt so badly because she knew no matter how much she loved him, it would still end. She was poison and he would be well shot of her.

Gold's arms were wrapped tightly around her waist, keeping her so close. She could barely move to lift herself off of him, just managing tiny jerks of her hips. It was as if he couldn't bear to let her go even that much. She needed to move, needed to excise the tension from her body, needed release.

She shoved at his shoulders until he was lying back, flat against the bed once more. Bracing herself against his chest she lifted herself up on her knees before plunging back down, riding him hard. Gold's head snapped back, his neck taut, tendons standing out in stark relief as he gripped at her hips, urging her to move faster.

"God, yes, Belle," he wailed, her old name slipping from his lips. She didn't have the energy or inclination to correct him. If he wanted Belle, he could have her. She bent forward, finding his lips and swallowing his words, kissing him sweetly even as her lower body worked against his. She wanted to be Belle, the woman he had loved, wanted to hear that name again. But Gold seemed beyond words.

He was pulling at her hips, trying to get her to move at the rhythm he wanted, taking from her like he never would have done before when everything was about her, about her pleasure. He was still angry with her and she let him be. When his frustration finally broke and he rolled her underneath him, she let him. She was Belle. Lacey was a lie.

He entered her again with a smooth stroke, her back arching off the bed and her breasts pressing against his chest.

"Harder," she implored, gripping Gold by the ass as his hips slammed against hers. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, his arms around her back. The new angle had him brushing against her clit with every thrust, his cock filling her and hitting her in just the right spot. She was vibrating, her whole body feeling like it was about to burst into stardust. Her thighs tightened around his hips, her walls clamping down on his cock as she broke apart, her head thrown back in a silent scream.

For one blissful moment, she was out of her own head, completely free, and completely whole. For one moment it was as though the past ten years had never happened, she had a flash of what life would be if she had stayed.

A few frenzied thrusts later and Gold was coming as well, filling her with warmth and sending an aftershock shuddering through her.

He collapsed against her, his face buried in her sweaty hair, his hot breath fanning across her neck. They were quiet for a long moment, no sound but their ragged breathing and racing hearts. Lacey stared up at the ceiling, trying to sort her jumbled thoughts.

"I was in Amsterdam," she said suddenly, her voice slightly hoarse from exertion.

Gold raised his head to look at her, slipping from her body and rolling to his side.

"What?"

"In Amsterdam," she continued. "I was staying in this hostel, bunking down with these girls from London and they asked my name. For some reason I said it was Lacey. Of course they didn't question it, they didn't know who I was. And that was the freest I'd ever felt, just becoming her. She didn't have Belle's hang-ups or inhibitions. She didn't have Belle's past. She didn't have a dead mother or a deadbeat father or a married man back in her hometown she was still hung up on years later. She was just Lacey."

It was the truth, a simple thing to start this whole mess. She'd become Lacey because she no longer wished to be Belle. And now she wasn't sure she wanted to be Lacey. She wasn't sure who she wanted to be.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked as he pushed a curl back from her forehead.

"I thought you should know," she said with a little nod of her head. "I didn't do it because I hate you. I did it for self-preservation. In the end, no matter how much I loved you, I had to love myself too. I was just trying to figure out how to do that. Still am."

There was another beat of silence before Gold finally responded.

"Thank you, Lacey, for your honesty," he said, his hand cupping her cheek, forcing her to look at him.

She felt her breath catch at the tender look in his dark eyes, the look she'd been missing all evening. The look he wore just for her.

"You can call me Belle."


	4. Chapter 4

She woke him up twice in the night. She was unable to do what she had to do, leave yet again, without truly giving this night her all. Perhaps more orgasms would somehow lessen the pain of leaving.

Ten years ago she'd let herself have a taste, a brief vision of a future where she was his. It had broken her heart to leave, but she knew she had to. Now she'd allowed herself another taste, given him a smidgen of hope that maybe this time she would stay. And she was about to yank it away again. If ten years ago hadn't managed to make him hate her, this certainly would.

She wished she was someone different, someone who didn't feel the compulsion to leave every good thing behind, someone who wasn't always yearning for the next adventure, the next crest to reach on her never ending exploration. Maybe one day she would be that woman, the one who could stay and be Gold's equal. Then they could be together and perhaps she'd be satisfied. Today wasn't that day and she knew tomorrow wouldn't be either. But it was a pretty dream, one she would hold close to her chest on the days neither Belle nor Lacey seemed to fit and she was someone wholly new and exhilarating.

She leaned over, nuzzling his hair, letting herself breathe him in one last time.

"I love you," she whispered. "I want you to know that I truly love you." And then she snuck out on silent feet, not even bothering to wipe away the tears in her eyes.

When Gold woke up alone, he was unsurprised.

It was a different home, a different city, but the circumstances were all too familiar. Belle was good at running and he hadn't honestly expected her to do anything else. Even in the brief moments of honesty the night before, when the truth of Lacey came out and the rebirth of Belle began, he knew it wouldn't last.

But somehow knowing what would happen, being prepared for it, didn't lessen his anger.

And he was angry; there was no denying it. The roiling sick feeling in his gut, the buzzing in his ears, the way his hands wanted to clench together in a fist and punch through the drywall in his bedroom, were all too familiar feelings. He clamped it down, pushing the feeling down deep. He couldn't give in to his anger. He couldn't let Belle have that much power over him. She was gone. It was one stolen night. Now he needed to move on.

In that mindset, he showered, taking extra care to scrub every trace of Belle from his body, dressed, and headed to his office.

It wasn't unusual for him to work on a Saturday, but he wasn't usually such a slave driver that her required his assistant to come in as well. Today was a different matter.

He hadn't known his blind date the night before would be Belle, but he'd known enough of his young assistant to think it would be an unmitigated disaster. He'd told her to be at the office promptly at 8 in the morning in anticipation. A kind of preexisting punishment for the hell he was sure he was going to experience with whatever friend she'd set him up with.

As it was, he immediately regretted his decision. Anna was sure to ask questions and the last thing he wanted was to think about Belle. Thinking about Belle would only make him lose control, a hard fought for thing that he never relished conceding. He would dwell on the pain in his heart and the anger in his gut. He couldn't let Belle destroy him, not again.

"Mr. Gold!" Anna said in surprise, leaping up from her desk chair as he entered the otherwise empty office suite. "You're here."

"Why wouldn't I be?" he glowered.

Anna just shrugged. "I thought that maybe you'd stay home if your date went well."

Gold just arched an eyebrow at her.

"It didn't go well?" she surmised. "Darn it, I thought you guys were perfect and when Lacey said you had a history..."

"You spoke to her?" he couldn't help himself from exclaiming, desperate for any hint of what was going through Belle's mind in spite of himself.

Anna's mouth fell open clearly not expecting to be caught out.

"I mean, just briefly, she mentioned that she had known you," Anna's eyes widened at her words. "I mean, knew you, not like in the biblical sense. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I mean, you're a handsome man in your own way and she's a woman and…"

"Miss Arendelle," he interrupted, a headache forming behind his right eye that always seemed to flare up in the presence of his young assistant. "Quit while you're ahead."

"Yes sir," she said with a nod. "Thank you, sir."

Anna sat back down in her chair, folding her hands in her lap and staring at the desk surface in front of her. Gold heaved a sigh and headed into his office.

"What went wrong though?" Anna's voice followed him through his office door and he stopped, leaning on his cane.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, turning to look at his annoying assistant who couldn't seem to let this go. He'd had Belle again, had her in his arms, and he felt even worse in the aftermath. It had been that way before. Weeks of pining, one night together, and a gaping wound left behind. Ten years didn't soften the blow. It hurt and he'd bloody well rather forget it.

"I just…" Anna trailed off, seemingly trying to steel herself to forge ahead. "I had a sense about the two of you. And last night when I talked to Lacey, it seemed like there was something there. I just would hate for a stupid misunderstanding to derail something good."

Gold shook his head. "It was more than a misunderstanding, Miss Arendelle."

"I know she can be a little prickly and so can you," her eyes widened again. "Not that I'm calling you prickly, sir. That would be unwise."

Gold didn't bother to answer her, just turned into his office and shut the door.

He tried to bury himself in work, but the contracts and paperwork that littered his desk didn't hold his attention like usual. His mind kept drifting back to the night before, to the feel of Belle beneath him, the salty sweetness of her skin, the way she'd woken him up multiple times in the night as if making the most of their time together, the sleepy way she'd clung to him after the last time.

He rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes as if it could block out the memory, playing through his head on a loop. Even if Belle hadn't been prone to running, the way she'd held him last night would have clued him in that she'd be gone by sun up.

He limped over to the sideboard in his office, pouring himself a glass of scotch, the fact that it was nine in the morning be damned. Perhaps he'd give in, let himself spiral out of control. Perhaps he'd get drunk at nine in the morning and self-destruct in a way he hadn't allowed in years. Perhaps this was the final straw. With that in mind, he poured himself another drink, gulping it down and letting it burn down the back of his throat. What did he have to lose anymore?

He slammed the empty glass back down on the mahogany sideboard with a satisfying thunk.

"Oh!" he turned to find Anna in the doorway of his office. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr. Gold, but these documents just arrived for you."

She hurried forward, placing a FedEx packet on his desk before scurrying back out the way she came.

"Wait," he called after her, the rediscovered self-destructive streak strong and alive in him.

Anna turned slowly, looking up at him apprehensively.

"Is there something else you needed?"

"Why did you set me up with Be—Lacey?" he asked. He wasn't sure it really mattered what bizarre thought process had led Anna to think it was a good idea, but he found he needed an answer regardless.

Anna shrugged, seeming uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

"I don't know. I guess I saw something similar about you. Not that you're a five foot tall Australian woman or anything," she was quick to add with a shake of her head. "But there was something there. Like maybe you were kindred spirits or something. I know you think I'm a bit of a flake, Mr. Gold, but I have a sense about people. It's never been wrong before. Okay, well it was wrong once with my ex-fiancé Hans. I was totally wrong about him, but you and Lacey I think I'm right about."

Gold snorted. "You're sadly mistaken. I'm afraid Miss French and I are as incompatible as two people could possibly be."

"Is that why you're drinking at nine in the morning?" she shot back with an arched eyebrow. "Sorry! I'm not judging. I'm just observing. I just don't think you'd look so miserable over someone you didn't care about."

"I never said I didn't care," he said, his voice little more than a whisper.

"Oh," Anna said, comprehension dawning in her eyes. She looked like she was seeing him in a different light for the first time. Gold didn't like it, didn't enjoy exposing weakness. This morning was getting worse and worse. "There's a lot more going on here than I realize, isn't there?" she said sagely. "I think maybe you love her. And she loves you too. But something is keeping you apart. What is it? Pride? Stubbornness? Incompatible sex drives?"

"Miss Arendelle," he snapped. Honestly, it was high time to fire her. Anna had been overstepping her bounds entirely too often. But she was right too. He loved Belle. She'd admitted she loved him as well. Why the fuck wasn't that enough?

Of course the number one thing keeping them apart at the moment was that he had no way to contact Belle. She hadn't left a phone number or forwarding address. She'd just disappeared into the ether and if not for the overtaxed joint in his ankle giving him fits he'd have half expected he dreamed the whole encounter.

A phone number wouldn't do. Belle was sure to be screening her calls.

And fuck it all, he was going to put himself out there again. Belle ran when things got tough and she was Belle, not Lacey. She'd said as much the night before. And when Belle ran, Gold followed. He hadn't done it ten years ago and she'd wanted him to. He wouldn't make the mistake again.

"Do you happen to have an address for Miss French?"

A slow smile spread across Anna's face.

"I can tell you where she works."


	5. Chapter 5

Gold hadn't expected a diner, that was for certain. But that's what awaited him when he turned up at the address Anna had given him.

Belle was absolutely brilliant. She had smarts and an expensive education and yet here she was waiting tables? He supposed she'd told him the night before how rare jobs in her field were, but surely she could find something more worthy of her talents than this greasy spoon.

It was a Saturday morning and there was a typical breakfast rush, tables clamoring for the attention of the two waitresses on duty. As soon as Gold entered the diner he was hit with the smell of sizzling bacon, maple syrup and strong coffee. His stomach gave a loud rumble and he was reminded that all he'd had for breakfast was 2 glasses of whisky.

He didn't see Belle right away, the tables being served by a heavily pregnant blonde and a lanky brunette in ruby red hot pants. He found an empty table in the corner, settling in and ordering a coffee from the pregnant waitress. For a moment he entertained the idea that Anna had lied to him, sent him on a wild goose chase on Belle's orders, but quickly dismissed it. He didn't think his assistant had a malicious bone in her body. However, he didn't put it past her to give him a wrong address on accident. The girl was, quite frankly, hopeless. He looked around the small diner once more, just coming to the conclusion he should try to find Belle some other way when a man's voice exploded from the kitchen.

"Lacey!" the man shouted from the swinging door to the kitchen. "Get your ass back in here and take your damn tables."

A door slammed in the back of the cramped diner and Belle appeared wearing a short, flared, red skirt, a button down white shirt, and a stained apron. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, a pen stuck through the mass of chestnut curls.

"Fucking hell, Keith," she sighed. "I've been here since 6, I'm entitled to a break."

"Not my fault you've got a hangover," Keith barked back. "Now serve your fucking tables or I'll find some other slut who will."

He disappeared back into the kitchen and Belle waved a choice finger at his back. She spun around, digging in her apron pocket for a notepad before stomping over to a table, a fake smile affixed to her face.

She hadn't noticed him, sitting in his corner booth, and Gold took the opportunity to watch Belle, or Lacey rather, in her natural habitat. She jotted down the couple at her table's order before swanning over to grab a coffee pot from behind the counter and start pouring refills.

Gold sat, entranced, as she made her way around the perimeter of the diner. She finally approached his table, not bothering to give him a glance as she topped off his coffee mug.

"Belle," he said softly.

Her hand jerked, spilling coffee across the table until it splattered against the tile floor. Her eyes looked up to meet his and she froze, like a deer in headlights.

"What are you doing here?" she finally stammered out.

"What are you?" he asked, giving voice to the thoughts that had echoed through his head since he first spotted the dingy little diner, tucked away between a bowling alley and a dry cleaner.

Belle looked down, pulling at her red pleated skirt beneath her white apron. He had the distinct impression he'd embarrassed her though he'd hardly thought such a thing was possible.

"Gotta make a living," she mumbled out, brandishing the coffee pot in one hand. "I bartend too, most nights."

She shook her head for a moment, as though she hadn't meant to divulge quite so much, before pulling a stained rag from her apron pocket and mopping up the spilled coffee.

"Why did you run again?" he asked.

She sighed, setting the coffee pot down on the table. "What else did you expect?"

"Nothing," he said honestly. "When I woke up alone this morning I'd never been less surprised."

"Well, then you're not an idiot after all," she snorted.

Gold huffed a little, his stomach twisting at her words.

"Don't do that," he said, shaking his head. "Not after last night."

Belle bit her lip, closing her eyes for a moment.

"Belle," he said softly, catching her wrist in his hand. "Please."

"I can't be the person you want me to be," she said, her shoulders slumping. "I'm not the woman you want."

"You're exactly the woman I want," he growled out. "You're the only woman I ever wanted."

"That's not true," she shook her head, one dark curl spilling over her forehead. "Before you saw me again last night, when was the last time you'd even thought about me?"

"More often than you might think," he admitted.

She looked stricken for a moment before snapping up the coffee pot again, charging off toward the counter and Gold grabbed his cane, following her like a man possessed.

"You've run from me twice now," he called after her, more assuredly than he felt. "You'll give a man a complex."

Belle wheeled around on her heel, her eyes wide. "I'm working," she insisted.

"Why? Why here, Belle? You're better than this place."

He knew immediately he'd said the wrong thing, Belle's eyes going hard.

"You're such a bastard," she spat, heading around the counter and disappearing into the kitchen.

Gold sunk down on to a stool, thunking his head against the Formica countertop.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself.

He should just go. He'd clearly made an ass of himself far too many times for one 24-hour period. But that dangerous self destructive streak was still dictating his movements. He should leave, so of course he'd stay. Next to him a surly looking man with a five o'clock shadow, no matter that it wasn't half past nine, gave him a piteous look.

"Women, huh?" the man said, thumping Gold on the back. Gold just glared at him until the man returned to his breakfast with a shrug.

"Jacob," Belle's tentative voice came from beside him and he started. He hadn't realized she'd come back out into the restaurant. "Come with me."

She motioned to a side door over her shoulder and Gold followed her through it into a narrow alley between the diner and the bowling alley. A large rubbish bin was pressed against the cinderblock wall of the alley, reeking of spoiled food. A lovely location to have his heart stepped on once again.

They stood there for a moment, neither quite meeting the other's eyes. Belle sighed, giving her head a little shake as though coming to a decision.

"I'm sorry, okay?" she said finally, crossing her arms against her chest and shivering slightly in the cold air. "I'm sorry I did that again, left in the middle of the night without a word. I shouldn't have done it. I don't really want to be the girl that does that. But I don't even know who I am. I don't want to be Lacey, not really. But I'm not truly Belle anymore either."

"You don't have to be anyone," he said with a shake of his head. "Just be yourself."

She snorted derisively, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, okay."

"I know you," he insisted, a conviction in his words he was only just beginning to feel. He stepped closer to her until they were only a breath away. He could feel the heat of her small body, the light floral scent of her perfume combatting the fumes of the rubbish bin.

"The woman I was with last night," he said, cupping her elbows with his palms. "The woman who was warm and funny and biting and angry, all of it was you. You were never some perfect paragon of purity, Belle. You were always a little jagged and I always knew I could get cut if I didn't watch myself but I wanted you because of those flaws not in spite of them. You're perfect exactly the way you are and you don't have to change for me or the world or anyone else. Belle was perfect the way she was. You're perfect just the way you are even when you leave me sad and lonely in a cold bed."

She stared at him, her mouth slightly agape. It seemed he'd finally managed to render her speechless.

"Look," he sighed, stepping back from her. "If you want nothing more to do with me, just tell me and I'll leave you alone. I'll never try to contact you again."

"I don't want that," she said immediately. "I think I left more out of instinct that anything else. I didn't want to leave you."

"Then why did you?"

Belle twisted her hands together, looking off toward the mouth of the alley and the busy street beyond.

"Because it's what I do," she said. "I cut and run. I don't let things get too deep. I have a way out before I even begin. It's what I've done the past ten years, starting with that night with you. I don't really know another way to live."

"Has that made you happy?" he asked sincerely. If Belle was perfectly happy with her choices, he'd be happy for her and never question them. "Has Lacey made you happy?"

Belle blinked rapidly, trying to disperse the tears that had formed in her eyes. "At times," she admitted. "For a while. But not anymore."

He nodded. She was so different from the girl he'd known and yet so much the same. He wanted to know every part of her, every jagged inch. He just wanted her.

"I'm not the same man I was ten years ago either," he said with a shake of his head. "And maybe we'll have nothing in common and you'll hate the man I've become, but that's a risk I'm surprisingly willing to take."

"I could never hate you," she scoffed, rubbing at her bare arms. "Even when I wanted to hate you I couldn't. I need time though. I need to sort myself out before I can ever sort us out."

Gold nodded. "That's fair. I'm not asking you to marry me, Belle. I just want to take you out for coffee. Perhaps even get an up to date phone number."

"I think I could manage coffee," she said with a shy smile. "As long as it's not here."

Gold glanced around the putrid little alleyway. "Definitely not here. There's a coffee shop just up the road. When do you get off?"

Belle bit her lip, looking indecisive.

She was saved any attempt at an answer by the side door slamming open revealing a livid looking Keith.

"What the fuck is going on out here?" he demanded.

"Beat it, Keith," Lacey said, not even bothering to look at him. "I'm in the middle of something."

"I said no fucking breaks and here you are carrying on with this douchebag in the alley?" Keith continued. "Looks like he could be your fucking grandpa."

Gold squeezed the head of his cane in his hand, gritting his teeth together. He really couldn't afford an assault charge right now.

"I said I'm in the middle of something," Lacey spat back. "Now if you don't go inside right now and leave me the fuck alone I'm going to tell Marian all about the months of sexual harassment I've endured at your hands. I'm sure your wife would love to hear about you propositioning your employees during work hours."

Keith swallowed hard, glaring at Lacey, before disappearing back inside the diner. Gold wasn't sure what to say after that outburst. He didn't like the implication at what Belle had endured under her lecherous boss and he was regretting not taking a swipe at him with his cane when he'd had the chance. But then Belle erupted in a little giggle.

"You know what?" she said finally. "I'm free right now."

Gold raised an eyebrow.

"I don't have to take this bullshit. I'm not going to."

She kicked open the door to the diner, storming back in with a purpose.

"Oi, Keith!" she called. The man in question poked his head through from the kitchen.

"What the bloody hell, Lacey?"

"I quit," she said decisively.

She pulled the little white apron from her waist, tossing it on to the floor and taking Gold's arm.

"Buy me a latte," she ordered, steering him out of the diner and leaving a sputtering Keith in their wake.

Gold looked down at the tiny woman next to him and couldn't help the smile that crossed his face, a real, genuine smile. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt happy, but with Belle tucked in to his side, walking down the brisk Boston street, he thought he might be halfway there.

"Let me see your phone," Belle said suddenly, and he pulled it from his coat pocket, handing it to her without a question.

She punched in a number, saving it as a new contact, and squeezing it in her palm for a moment before handing the phone back to him.

"So you can find me if you lose me again," she said tremulously. "And I promise I'll try not to run."

Gold looked down at the phone, the contact "Belle French" shining up at him from the illuminated screen, and smiled again. He felt like he could breathe easy for the first time in a decade.

"I'll call you," he quipped. Belle's face broke in to a brilliant smile as she took his arm again, heading down the street to the coffee shop and the life ahead of them.

He loved her. And as painful as the past ten years had been, he knew their love story was just beginning.


End file.
